Only look at your own son—there is no reason why we should not say it in his presence—what has the consequence been for him? He is six or seven and twenty, and has never had the opportunity of learning what a well-ordered home really is. OSWALD. I beg your pardon, Pastor; there you’re quite mistaken. MANDERS. Indeed? I thought you had lived almost exclusively in artistic circles. OSWALD. So I have. MANDERS. And chiefly among the younger artists? OSWALD. Yes, certainly. MANDERS. But I thought few of those young fellows could afford to set up house and support a family. OSWALD. There are many who cannot afford to marry, sir. MANDERS. Yes, that is just what I say. OSWALD. But they may have a home for all that. And several of them have, as a matter of fact; and very pleasant, well-ordered homes they are, too. [MRS. ALVING _follows with breathless interest; nods, but says nothing._ MANDERS. But I’m not talking of bachelors’ quarters. By a “home” I understand the home of a family, where a man lives with his wife and children. OSWALD. Yes; or with his children and his children’s mother. MANDERS. [_Starts; clasps his hands._] But, good heavens—— OSWALD. Well? MANDERS. Lives with—his children’s mother! OSWALD. Yes. Would you have him turn his children’s mother out of doors? MANDERS. Then it is illicit relations you are talking of! Irregular marriages, as people call them! OSWALD. I have never noticed anything particularly irregular about the life these people lead. MANDERS. But how is it possible that a—a young man or young woman with any decency of feeling can endure to live in that way?—in the eyes of all the world! OSWALD. What are they to do? A poor young artist—a poor girl—marriage costs a great deal. What are they to do? MANDERS. What are they to do? Let me tell you, Mr. Alving, what they ought to do. They ought to exercise self-restraint from the first; that is what they ought to do. OSWALD. That doctrine will scarcely go down with warm-blooded young people who love each other. MRS. ALVING. No, scarcely! MANDERS.